


Of Choices and Changes

by Ceridawn



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Gen, and elrond may have just snapped a bit, elwing is actually a maia now, in which training is required to use magical objects, luthien was a maia too, maglor may feel bad about the wrong things, not that that really comes into play here, that was her choice, well accidental choice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:14:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26189311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceridawn/pseuds/Ceridawn
Summary: Not all choices are intentional. Not all changes are bad.
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel & Elwing, Elrond Peredhel & Maedhros | Maitimo, Elrond Peredhel & Maglor | Makalaurë, Elros Tar-Minyatur & Elwing, Elros Tar-Minyatur & Maedhros | Maitimo, Elros Tar-Minyatur & Maglor | Makalaurë, Elwing & Maglor | Makalaurë, Eärendil & Elrond Peredhel, Eärendil & Elros Tar-Minyatur, Eärendil & maedhros, Eärendil/Elwing (Tolkien), Maedhros | Maitimo & Maglor | Makalaurë
Comments: 16
Kudos: 52
Collections: Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starlightwalking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/gifts).



> For Tolkien RSB 2020. Made for these lovely visuals provided by Starlightwalking. https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/627853849410109440/found-and-restored-for-the-tolkienrsb-2020

The kid was so young. Maedhros couldn't really remember being that age, it was too long ago and not all that important really. But he could remember his brothers at that age. Most of his cousins as well. At that age life was about the small scandals of court, though they had seemed large then. It was sneaking around with friends doing things their parents would not have approved of. Working on crafts they were passionate about. Really just enjoying life as you started to grow and find your place in it.

Eärendil had lost his parents. He had never even known most of his grandparents. The kid he was watching now seemed centuries older than his age. Which was probably all too true of most that had been born in these lands. 

They all thought they understood what Father was talking about when he said they would claim these lands. They thought they knew what hardship meant, having lost Grandfather after years of political strife. They were all so foolish and naive back then. True horror was not found in Valinor.

And now, war over with countless losses and nothing truly gained, it was time to start trying to fix things. Eärendil had slain the greatest of the Enemy's dragons, brought back hope when it was lost. He had fathered the boys Maedhros would always think of as sons. Truly, he was a child grown too quickly with more deeds to his name than any one elf should ever have to carry.

He would need a lot of help, if he was going to carry a Silmaril and have any hope of truly using it. Especially since his goal was going to be anything but easy. He had a wife to find. He had sons to raise. And he had to learn to be the Star of Hope. 

First, Maedhros had to convince him to accept help. Which was probably going to be a lot easier said than done, considering that Eärendil had every reason in the world to want him dead. The conversation he was about to have was probably going to be full of threats, accusations, and all manner of demands.

But if he wanted to start making reparations to all of the children they had failed, this was probably the best place to start.


	2. Chapter 2

Eärendil did not know what to do next. The War was over. That, in and of itself, was jarring enough. The War had been happening for his whole life and he quite honestly was not sure what life was supposed to be like without it. Life without war was a goal, a hope, an impossible dream. A miracle his father never knew and his mother hardly remembered. It was impossible.

But now the impossible had happened and they had won. Morgoth was gone. The Dark Enemy that had always been there was vanquished. Evil had lost. Everything was going to be okay now.

Only it wasn't. Morgoth was gone, but so was his wife. He had an idea of where his sons might be, but they were hardly more than strangers for all that he loved them. He loved the sea, but had no duty to fulfill to it. He was a Prince, but his city was gone.

The War was over and Eärendil had no idea what he was supposed to do next.

"What is on your mind, cousin?"

The voice had him starting, though his hand did not go to his sword until he processed who, exactly, it had come from. Adrenaline began to bump through his veins as he took in the tall figure, sun meeting hair to crown him in fire. The Heir to Flames, eldest of seven and Prince of his House. Kinslayer. Eärendil had slain dragons, but this elf struck fear into his heart in a way they never could. Leader and warrior and madman and Oathbound. 

Maedhros Fëanorian . The one responsible for him coming back to a home that was already destroyed.

"What do you want, Fëanorian ?" His blade was already halfway out of its sheath. The Fëanorian may not have a weapon out right now, but Eärendil would need every advantage he could get if this did turn to violence. Somehow, he did not think the legendary elf would be as easy to slay as a dragon.

"Peace, cousin. I am here by the command of the Valar. Surely you do not think that they would mean you any harm?" His voice was as pleasant as that of any courtier Eärendil had met during his time in Valinor, but he could not shake the feeling that there was something mocking beneath it. 

"And why would the Valar send you to me?" He could not think of any reason the Valar would make this elf his problem. They were related, yes, but only distantly. King Finarfin came to mind, who was his uncle and actually knew him. And Eärendil was but one among many that he had wronged.

"Why, to make you their Star of Hope of course." His hand, which has previously been by his side, moved up. Showing something very familiar to Eärendil . A sparkling white gem. He had seen just like it being worn by his wife every day from the moment he met her to the last time he saw her. How had the Kinslayer retrieved it? "Catch."

And then suddenly it was being thrown at him. Catching it was easy, it was figuring out what was happening that was the problem. In his hand was a Silmaril. Maedhros Fëanorian and his brothers had fought, plotted, and killed their way across the continent for these gems. Sacked two elven cities while in the middle of the War. Stained their hands in blood and went to their deaths.

And now Maedhros , their leader and general, had tossed one at him like it was nothing more than a children's toy.

His sheer disbelief of everything that was currently happening must have shown on his face, as Maedhros was fairly quick to offer an explanation. "Oh, don't look so concerned. Nothing my father made would be damaged easily."

Or not. This explanation explained exactly nothing about why a Fëanorian had tossed a Silmaril at him. A fact which had to be obvious to said Fëanorian as he continued on. "The Valar, in their wisdom, have decided that that belongs in the sky. And that you get to be the one to carry it. However, there are few left who truly know how to use a Silmaril. So I have been charged with teaching you. You could see it as a form of reparations."

Oh no. That was not happening. Eärendil had to find his family. Spending time around the reason his family had been broken apart was not on the list of things he was going to be doing. No, he was going to be getting as far away from the cursed Kinslayer and his gem as quickly as possible. The Valar could find someone else to be their star, however that was supposed to work. He was going to have no part in it.

"I do not want your blood-soaked gem, Fëanorian , nor any lessons that you could possibly teach me. My duty now is to my family and I will not-"

He was cut off by the Kinslayer, speaking in a lazy drawl. "Well that certainly is convenient. The second part of my penance is to reunite you with your wife. And, if the stories I have heard about her current condition hold any truth, you will need both my Father's gem and knowledge of how to use it if you want to see her returned to the maiden you know her as. So you see, my young cousin, that my aid is exactly what you want."

Eärendil wanted nothing more than to turn him away. But if there was any truth at all to his words then he could not risk it. Especially since it seemed that he may know more about Elwing's circumstances than Eärendil himself did. He really did not have much of a choice at all.

"Alright."

Hopefully this all could be done quickly so he could have his wife back. Then, together, they could collect their sons. And he could get his family far away from the likes of Maedhros Fëanorian .

~~~

"Again."

Eärendil had honestly never even thought that this type of exhaustion could exist. It was different from how he felt after tending to sails for hours. Deeper than what he felt when going for days without sleep. Even the exhaustion felt after a battle was far different from this, though perhaps that came the closest.

Weariness of spirit was not something that he ever thought he would have to face in such a literal way. But now here he was, reaching out these parts of them that he had only ever had a vague awareness of before. He had not been aware that his spirit could ache in such a way. And it had not stopped, not for days. Lord Maedhros apparently did not believe in things like rest.

Well, enough was enough. Eärendil still had no clue how this was going to help him find Elwing, and finding her was the only reason he had agreed to work with the Fëanorian in the first place.

"What is the point of this?" He wasn't quite daring enough to throw his hands in the air when questioning Maedhros Fëanorian of all people, but he was certainly brave enough to glare. Maedhros was just an elf. He couldn't possibly be more frightening than Ancalagon the Black. And Eärendil had killed him.

Besides, if the Fëanorian was going to kill him he probably would have done it a few days ago when he threw the Silmaril on the ground out of sheer frustration. But instead of drawing his blade, the other and merely picked it up, gave it back to him, and ordered him to try again.

Eärendil was really getting sick of hearing that word.

"The point is teaching your spirit how to do things it never learned, and then it will be teaching it to go one step further. And another after that. And another.

“Now sit down. And this time listen to everything I am saying, don't simply try and find the useful bits. This is not a craft where you can seperate the theory from the practical. In matters of power, the theory is the practical."

What was that even supposed to mean? Theoretical and practical are two different things. That is _why_ they were two different things.

Maedhros was obviously skilled at reading expressions, if the sigh he let out was any indication.

"Just stop me and ask questions when I lose you."


	3. Chapter 3

Maglor had no idea what he was doing. Most of his brothers were dead. His nephew wanted nothing to do with him. His sons were safe but out of his reach. There would be no more teaching Elrond how to sing comfort or Elros how to bring inspiration to anyone in need of it. What soldiers remained had been dispersed after Morgoth fell, so sure was Maedhros that they would no longer have need of them. His brother was just so vehement that those who had survived deserved a chance to try and find what happiness they could elsewhere.

And now Maedhros was dead or worse. Once again his eldest brother went to meet with one of the Ainur. And was then separated from him. Only this time he had no armies to lay siege with and there was no hope of their cousin appearing to carry out a miraculous rescue.

Maglor would try. He would be willing to go and try to save his brother from the Valar, of course he would. This time there were no younger brothers he had to watch and make sure they would not die while attempting the same thing. He would be more than willing to die for just the chance at rescuing the only brother he had left. Just that little bit of hope.

His death had stopped scaring him long ago.

But he was uncertain of the state of the Oath. And while he would risk his own life, he could never risk the eternities of his family. Which he would certainly be gambling with if he died.

Because Maglor knew words. Really, truly knew them and their power. Really, he had probably been the only one that had even the slightest idea of what they were getting themselves into when they swore. And so he had found, not a loophole, but something he could use to at least protect his family from the worst of it.

To the Darkness they would go if they failed their Oath. But, as long as even one of them was still alive, then there was still a chance for it to be fulfilled. As long as one of them survived, the others could stay in Mandos. And while Maglor certainly did not trust him with his family, he held more fear for what might await them in the Void. 

So did he gamble the fates of everyone else, on the chance that he could save the one brother that might yet live? Maglor did not know. And until he could decide, all he could do was watch and see what was happening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was chance that led him to the swan. He recognized her for what she was the moment he saw her. A Maia was unmistakable, no matter what form they might be taking at a given time. At least it was that way for him, who had grown up in Valinor where Maiar were a common sight. 

And who had raised two children of Maiar blood.

Maglor was not entirely sure what was compelling him as he rose his harp and began to play. He knew exactly who she was of course. He had been there when she assumed this form, which he supposed she had been in ever since. Elwing, daughter of Dior. Princess by blood and marriage. The reason that the Oath was now in question, instead of fulfilled. The Silmaril she had cast in the sea was the only one they had failed to retrieve, for however short a time they had held the other two. If she had just surrendered what was never hers to begin with, his brothers would be safe. His survival would not be held hostage against all of their safety!

He should raise his voice in such a song that she would flinch away, strike at her and chase her as far away as he could. 

But she was the mother of his sons. Two young boys who meant the world to him. And they deserved to have a mother. They deserved everything befitting the Princes they were, things he had never been able to give them. 

They deserved someone who could stay.

So instead of striking out, he lulled his voice into a croon. He sung of staying. Of arms to tightly hold and feet to dance across the ground. He sung of Elves and Men. Luthien and Dior and Thingol and Eärendil . 

He sung of children, playing happily. And he prepared himself, to keep singing for as long as he had to. He could do nothing for Maedhros without endangering all those dead before them. So instead he would do this for their sons.

~~~

She was not sure why this strange elf was here. He had been for days now and showed no signs of going away anytime soon. She tried to make him, when he first showed up. There was something about him that brought forth feelings she did not like. Anger and fear and despair. It was especially bad when he first came, made her feathers shift and her wings itch to carry her away from him and the danger his presence screamed into her mind.

But wherever she flew, he followed. And he sang, and something about his voice kept calling her back as much as it frightened her. So she found herself around him still, day after day.

And slowly she picked something else out of him. A trace of something precious, something worth keeping. While part of him screamed enemy and threat, another part was something that she knew she had to keep safe. Indeed, she would do anything to protect it. She wasn't sure what it was exactly, but she knew that it was the most important thing in the world. So the why did not really matter. She could trust her instincts and be happy with them.

Besides, the elf was quickly becoming too worn to be anything even close to a threat to her. His songs were still strong in power, but at this point she could tell that if she seriously tried to out distance him, his body would not let him keep up with her flight. Possibly his spirit either. The silly thing was wearing himself ragged, constantly Singing and pouring energy out. 

And at times it really did seem like he did nothing but Sing to her. Did he not know that elves, while strong in spirit, had physical bodies? That they required things like food and sleep? Really, the foolish thing seemed to have no idea how to take care of himself.

He was quite lucky that he had found her. And been stubborn enough to stick around long enough for her to see past the first impression of threat to sense the odd familiarity he carried around with him. Who knows what would have happened to him if he had been left on his own.

Still, it was nothing she could not handle. A glance to the left confirmed that he was being good right now, doing what he was supposed to. He had a fire going, was cooking the fish that she had brought for him. And hadn't that been an ordeal, getting him to accept the first one she brought him. He kept trying to give it back! She was not the one who had been to bust Singing to do anything else, including feed herself. She had been hunting regularly. And she did not even need food the way he did! Food was nice and an easy way to regain strength for her, but it was essential for him. Yet he seemed completely set on ignoring it. Sleep as well, until a few nights ago when she did a bit of Singing herself.

Yes, it was quite lucky for him that she managed to look past the threat he carried with him, even if she still occasionally felt a spike of fear when he Sang. He would undoubtedly be in much worse shape without her.


	4. Chapter 4

"Maglor?" 

It had been probably weeks since he had heard any voice but his own. But he would always recognize his brother's. Shock brought his attention off of the elf/Maia/swan, whatever Elwing was. She could not hold his attention, not when the last brother he had, who he thought was surely lost to him, was standing there. With a younger elf beside him. Familiar, though they had never met before. From the uncertain glance he shot at Maedhros, so quick it was entirely possible the young one himself did not even realize he was looking to Maedhros for a cue, it seemed like his brother had picked up yet another stray. How utterly like him, worrying Maglor endlessly just to return with a new project.

"Brother. It is a relief to see you." His voice did not crack, something which was probably a minor miracle. And definitely a good thing if Elwing's body language was anything like that of a real swan. Normal swans were trouble enough, Maglor was fairly sure he did not want to see what happened if you startled one that was really a Maia when they were already unsettled.

"You found Elwing?" 

"Yes, though it is rather odd of you to jump to that conclusion so quickly. Especially since I was unaware anyone was looking." 

"We have been, as a matter of fact." Ahh. That probably meant his brother's companion was Eärendil . Knowing Maedhros they were probably here to restore Elwing. Which was not how he was expecting to fulfill this particular goal, but it was a pleasant surprise. 

"Well, you certainly took your time." A quick smile was flashed at his brother, reassuring him that he would help. He could play a little longer, even as exhausted as he was.

He was no longer alone. That by itself gave him enough hope to power on for a while longer. Having one victory under your belt always made the other battles seem easier.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He could feel her through their Bond, more clearly than he had in years. So close. His wife, his love, the home he had spent so long yearning to return to. She was right there. Her mind was changed, yet it remained still familiar. Though in a different head, her eyes were still the gems that had enchanted him from the first time he saw them. He knew her, in a way he could not imagine knowing any other. 

And yet, she did not know him. There was no answering love in her eyes. Her mind, so close, still seemed unreachable. He gathered up the power, the way that Maedhros had taught him to these past weeks. He drew it up and pressed against her, showing her himself, begging her to come back. Looking desperately for the princess, the queen. The lady he had courted and loved and wed. 

She jerked her head away, her wings beginning to twitch. Fear was in her gaze now, eyes no longer meeting his. He could hear the other Fëanorian , the bard, adjusting the tempo of his music. Slower, now. A humming, wordless yet powerful grew in the air around them. Urging calm and safety and fond memories. He was not even its main focus, but he could feel the power of that music. But still his wife was panicked, a noise of her own leaving her throat. It rent the air, a pained gasp came from behind him. At this point, Eärendil was fairly sure that the power of the Silmaril was the only reason that he was not on his knees.

A few weeks ago he would have been. And as strong as it was, it was not enough. He was not enough. Daring to tear his eyes away, he glanced behind himself. The bard was still playing and singing, but blood dripped from torn fingertips and his eyes had taken on a glassy haze. Maedhros , kneeling on the ground in front of him as if his body could somehow provide a shield from against the pure energy surrounding them, had blood trickling from his ears. His eyes were clearer than his brother's.

"It isn't working. I can't get through to her." He could hear the plea in his own voice. It wasn't working and he didn't know what to do. This was supposed to work. He had learned how to use the Silmaril!

"Then call her out! She is your wife. If you can not do it for yourself, then you had damn well better do it for your sons!" This was not the patient teacher he had come to know over the past few weeks. This voice belonged to the Lord who had commanded troops against Morgoth for centuries. It demanded obedience. There was no arguing against, no acceptance or defeat.

But what did he want him to do? How was he supposed to bring Elwing back when she couldn't even recognize him?

But maybe it was just trying to get her to recognize him that was the problem. This was not about him, not really. He had been thinking about it, learning skills for himself and trying to remind her of him. But this entire time, the point of it was not to bring Elwing back to him. It was to bring her back to herself. He did not have to remind her of who he was, he had to remind her of who she was!

So he changed what he was sending. No longer would he implore her to remember him. Instead he pictured her, clutching the Silmaril and humming. Concentrating. His first glimpse of her, a refugee Princess welcoming them in their hour of need. Her laugh at his rather pronounced accent when speaking Sindarin. The love in her eyes and smile on her face as she held their tiny sons, the image he had treasured for years. The goal he was trying to protect.

Maedhros was right. In the end, he was doing this for her and for them. It would break something in him if she never remembered him, never loved him again. But everything would be pointless if his family couldn’t have each other again. His happiness had never been the goal here.

So he hummed and concentrated, holding that one image of the three most important people in his life in his mind. His eyes slipped closed, even if looking away from her now that he finally found her was so difficult. He had to focus, for them. He had to.

Suddenly, the music from behind him stopped. Eärendil wanted to look. But nothing had ever been more terrifying that he might open his eyes to see a swan flying away. 

And then there was a hand on his cheek, a familiar voice he dreamed of calling his name.

“Eärendil .”

And he opened his eyes. The woman before him was not quite as he remembered. There were white feathers mixed in with her silver hair. Her eyes held a faint glow he had never seen in them before. But all that paled before the fact that she knew him. And the love in her eyes was the same as it had always been. 

The Silmaril fell from suddenly limp fingers as he threw his arms around her. He had done it, he had won her back.


	5. Chapter 5

Elrond looked up as the door was thrown open. The noise was different here, but it still came from the same source that it almost always had in the past. Elros, standing in the doorway and panting for breath. Not an unusual occurrence, Elros had always been the one most likely to wind up like that.

What was concerning was the actual panic that he could feel coming from his brother. Elros got upset easily, but not normally to this level. The last time his brother had been this upset, it had been because someone from Finarfin's host had been trying to insist that they belonged in Valinor, being technically Princes of the line of Finwe. It had taken a lot of careful maneuvering to get everyone to understand that that would not be happening. 

"They are planning to seperate us!"

It felt for a moment as if the whole world came to a screeching halt. Those words did not make sense. Elros could not mean just for in lessons, that would not lead to this sort of reaction. But anything beyond that was unthinkable.

"What? You mean send us to different places?"

Elros nodded, distress painted across his face. "I overheard Celeborn talking with Gil-galad. Two princes of both Sindarin and Noldorin descent. He said that it was unfair for the Noldorin court to get to keep both, especially since it was the Sindar who were lacking any members of their royal family. And that it would do wonders for diplomacy, having twin royals in the two seperate courts. Gil-galad did not sound like he was going to oppose him. Elrond, they intend to pull our family apart again! For the sake of their diplomacy, without even asking us about it. I don't want to go with the Sindar. I don't want to leave you."

Left unstated was the fact that of course it would be Elros who went with the Sindar. He had the silver hair of Thingol and Dior, while Elros had the darker hair and eyes that would look more at home on a Noldor. The one that would be pulled away to be Thingol's heir was obvious. Nevermind that Elrond's dark coloration also mirrored Luthien, the Sindar would want the reminder of the King they had lost, not the Queen who had left.

All of that was quite obvious, but also felt quite distant to Elrond. In fact, everything felt distant right now. Father had left long ago. Mother fled the blood cloaked in feathers. Maedhros and Maglor had sent them away, to this place filled with strangers calling themselves kin. It was difficult, always losing. But Elros was constant, someone who always understood, even if they did not always agree. He had always been there and Elrond had never doubted for a second that he always would be there.

And now they wanted to take him away as well.

"Elrond, are you okay?" Elros had stopped his wild pacing, closing the ground between them. Elrond spared a thought to wonder when that had happened before pushing the thought from his mind. There were more important concerns to be dealt with right now.

Lips twisting up into a serene smile, Elrond met his brother's eyes. "Yes, everything will be fine. In fact, I think this makes everything very simple. Oh, the logistics will take some management, but the decision is very simple. It is a very good thing we never abandoned the practice of having a bag ready, even if we only kept it up to frustrate them."

Maedhros , after all, had been the one to insist on that practice. And there were a number of elves here that would have them abandon everything they learned from the Fëanorians, as if years of their lives should or could be so easily erased. They had originally kept making the bags out of habit, but that transformed into spite as more and more people kept trying to insist they should change.

Really, some people were quite foolish. Insisting that they abandon lessons learned from brothers who were quite famously stubborn, without once pausing to consider that they might have picked up on that trait as well. Though, considering the tails of their ancestors, that particular trait could have come from many different places.

"Elrond? What are you planning?"

His brother's voice was wary, but the emotions coming from him were calming down. Obviously the fact that there was a plan, even if Elros did not know what it was yet, was a comfort. Good. They were about to do something very impulsive and quite possibly dangerous. It would be best if they could at least keep relatively calm while doing it.

"Why, isn't it obvious? If they want to seperate us, then they obviously are no good for us to be around. So we will simply leave first. We already have our bags. All we need to do is right a note, we can probably be gone before the sun sets. There is enough chaos in the world right now, once we leave here it should be simple enough for us to just disappear."

Elrond was not going to lose his brother, no matter what else he had to sacrifice to keep him. At least they had not been here long enough for it to become another home instead of merely a place. Losing another one would have been difficult.

Elrond would have done it willing though. His twin was far more important than a home ever could be.

**“To His Royal Highness King Gil-Galad, High King of the Noldor in Middle-Earth**

**It has come to our attention that, for the sake of improved relations between the Noldor and the Sindar, the idea has been put forth of separating us to dwell among the separate courts. We find such an idea unacceptable. It is not to be permitted. And so we are leaving ourselves, and each forsaking the titles you would have had us take. We choose instead to take each other as kin foremost above all, with neither to be counted as a kin separate from the other.**

**I, Elrond son of Eärendil , do from this day forswear any claim on the throne of the Noldor.  
I, Elros son of Elwing, do from this day forswear any claim on the throne of the Sindar.**

**This we have sworn in the eyes of Eru.”**


	6. Chapter 6

Elros should have known better. He really should have. Nothing good ever happened when Elrond got that gleam in his eyes that said he was going to cause trouble for whoever it was who had managed to rouse his ire. 

Oh, everyone thought that Elros was the one who got into trouble. And sure, he may do so more frequently. But he never did it on the scale that his twin managed whenever he was truly upset. Elros himself knew he had something of a flashfire temper. He got upset and did something immediately, but rarely did it have truly lasting effects. His brother got upset more rarely by far, but when he did he always seemed to go just a little bit crazy. And when he acted on being upset, there were always consequences. Always.

And Elros always got dragged into it, because he would never let his brother face trouble alone.

Admittedly, this was the first time those consequences had them holed up inside a cave with a horde of giant spiders lurking right outside. Probably already dreaming about what two elflings would taste like. Really, if they survived this then he would have to make a new rule. Elrond did not get to plan things when he was upset. In fact, Elrond may never get to plan anything ever again. 

Suddenly, a bit of calm seemed to assault the panic that he was feeling. Elros relaxed instinctively at the feeling of Maedhros sending him reassurance. From the corner of his eye he saw Elrond do the same thing.

"Did you feel that too?"

"Yeah, but why would Maedhros ..."

Suddenly, there came a strong wave of determination from Maglor. Elros had not felt that particular emotion from him since before they were left to Gil-galad. That was Maglor Fëanorian , with a voice that could shape the world. Not the desperate, almost hopeless Maglor they had last seen. But why now? 

Elros did not want to hope. Every other bit of faith he had placed in anyone but his brother was eventually betrayed. But maybe their guardians had someone known they were in danger. Felt their fear. Maybe they were coming for them. 

Maybe. They did promise to protect them after all. And Fëanorian s always kept their word. It was a family trait. One he and Elrond had demonstrated not too long ago, or would be if they survived long enough to prove they meant it when they gave up their rights to the thrones.

"Do you feel that? It is familiar, but it isn't Maedhros or Maglor. But it feels concerned. Panicked, almost. But who...."

Elrond trailed off. Elros turned his attention inward, finding the person Elrond was talking about. The Bond was weak, like it had not been touched before, and the emotions coming toward through it were unfiltered. Elros could not remember a time when their guardians let them feel such unguarded emotions. Ever. 

But hold on. That was not one person, it was two. Their souls were just bound together so tightly that they almost seemed like a single person. And through the near panic, there was determination as strong as Maglor's. And love, strong and true.

And whoever they were, all of them were getting closer. Elros almost felt like crying. Instead he laughed. "Who do you think is going to lecture us more?"

"Definitely Maedhros. Maglor will approve of our decision to stick together. Even if he will be upset that we got ourselves trapped in a cave with spiders outside."

"We? This was all your idea."

"I certainly didn't hear you making any arguments against it. Besides, how was I supposed to know there were spiders in this particular forest?"

Elros easily let himself fall into the bickering. Everything would be fine. Spiders stood no chance when between a Fëanorian and their goal. And two were headed their way right now.

Along with the other two mystery people. And if he was harboring a secret, pointless wish about who they were. Well, Elrond would be the only one to ever know. And his brother would never judge him for that. 

They had both dreamed of it at some point or another.

~~~

Elwing pushed aside the last dead spider that was blocking the cave where her boys were. Her boys! How much they must have changed. They would not still be the small little children, tailing after her and asking for treats. They would be different now, and she had missed everything.

But she had regained herself. She had come back, and now there was power in her like nothing she had experienced before. Just by copying little bits of what Maglor was doing she had been able to help Eärendil in slaying the spiders. Something she had never even truly considered before, fighting by her husband's side. Making sure they got to their children as fast as physically possible.

Sweeping into the cave, she pulled the closest of her two sons into her arms, burying her face in Elrond's dark hair. From the corner of her eye, she saw Maglor doing the same with Elros. That was fine. Maglor was acceptable. Maybe. He had been fine when she was a swan, so part of her felt he was fine now. Even if she also remembered now why he most certainly was not fine.

It was when Maedhros Fëanorian entered beside her husband that she tensed up. Eärendil must have noticed, his course toward Elros changing to head for her instead. She waved him off, sending him back to their son. She felt his concern, but that could be dealt with later. She needed him with Elros. One of them had to be with each of their children.

He went without arguing, of course. He had been without the boys for even longer than she had. 

She kept her gaze on the Kinslayer. He was just watching everyone in the cave, apparently content to lurk in the background. Elwing had the feeling that he was not going to be leaving anytime soon.

Well, that could be dealt with later. Her sons were here. Her husband was here. Everything else would be fine.

Or she would make it. Things went alright for her grandmother in the stories. And she had more in common with her now than she ever had before.


End file.
